


Co-Pilots

by AliciaSinCiudad



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, I wasn't sure how to gender a droid, In which General Draven is kind of an asshole, This doesn't bear on the plot at all, Vague reference to hot chocolate, but if you're wondering; that's what Cassian was hoping K-2 would steal for him., so I went with "it"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliciaSinCiudad/pseuds/AliciaSinCiudad
Summary: In which Cassian Andor is forced to work with a sentient co-pilot. And someone else is forced to work with K-2.





	Co-Pilots

It had been a long day of training new recruits. His handler had claimed that it wasn’t a punishment for going over budget on the last mission, but Captain Andor had his doubts. He was sure he hadn’t been nearly as soft when he’d officially joined the Rebel Alliance Army, and he’d only been twelve years old. (He’d done some research and found that on Kestos Minor, you only had to be sixteen to sign up, and he figured that a tall-for-his-age twelve-year-old could pass for a short-for-his-age sixteen-year-old. Either his first high-stakes cover had been effective, or the army had really needed fresh blood.) One of the new recruits had fainted at the mention of the Emperor’s newest lackey, another had twisted an ankle while doing pull-ups, of all things, and two had actually managed to run into each other during laps. But what bothered Andor most was the complaining. They were in the Army, not some Imperial Pleasure Cruise subsidized by the hard work of oppressed peoples. The galaxy was a tough place, and they needed to toughen up themselves if they wanted to be any use in keeping it safe.

After ten very long hours with the trainees, all Captain Andor wanted to do was go to his quarters, shut the door to anything that breathed, and commiserate with his best friend, the Rebel Alliance’s snarkiest droid. K-2SO would certainly have some caustic remark to cheer Andor up, or some statistics on the likelihood that any of his trainees would actually pass their physical exams. If Andor was lucky, it would have brought something warm, sweet, and spicy to take the edge off, something far too expensive to be found in the mess hall, and Andor would very deliberately not ask where it came from. So Andor was quite displeased when he saw his handler standing before his door.

Andor took a deep breath. “General,” he said, hoping his weariness wasn’t too evident, but that it was just evident enough that his handler wouldn’t draw out the conversation too much.

“Captain,” the General replied.

Andor paused. Should he invite Draven inside his quarters? They were the one place that was just his (well, technically, his and K-2’s), and he didn’t want them associated with yet more work. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted whoever passed by to overhear their conversation, given that these conversations often required a high level of clearance. He decided to risk it. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Yes. Your droid…” He paused, as though waiting for Andor to protest that it wasn’t _his_ droid, that K-2SO belonged to itself and did whatever it wanted. “Your droid is… not here at the moment. It’s occupied. Will be occupied. For the time being. And perhaps a bit longer.”

“Occupied, sir?” _Steady now, Andor. You can’t show you’re peeved at your handler. He could send you on some horrendous mission to Mustafar. Again._

“Well. It appears that one of your colleagues has a… habit. Of gambling. Not so much of winning, though. They lost your droid in a game of Sabacc.”

“How did _they_ lose _my_ droid in a game of Sabacc? K-2 isn’t theirs to lose.”

“It is if that person is your superior. A General, for example.”

Andor swallowed. _Don’t throttle your handler,_ he told himself. _They’ll stick you with someone worse._ “Anyway, it’s not _my_ droid…”

“Whatever the case, the droid is gone, and will be for the foreseeable future. Fortunately, the other gambler is willing to lend us his co-pilot for the duration. You’ll be flying your next mission with a Wookiee named Chewbacca. I’ve been told he’s very reliable.”

“By whom?”

“By the guy I lost your droid to. Now pack your bags. You leave tomorrow. And bring something… lava-proof.”

 

 

As a spy, it behooved Andor to be at least conversant in many languages, and to understand many more that his physiology would not allow him to pronounce. As a spy, it also behooved him to pretend that he couldn’t understand most of those languages, to more effectively overhear juicy bits of intel. It also behooved him as a curmudgeon, so that he could avoid unnecessary conversation.

Andor was pretty sure that Chewbacca knew that he understood Shyriiwook, and he appreciated that Chewbacca didn’t let on. For his part, Chewbacca must have spoken at least one human language – probably Basic, possibly others – but he could pretend not to understand Andor if it suited him, and Andor could pretend not to know that the Wookiee understood if it suited _him_. Which it did. Best of all, Chewbacca had amazing taste in music – Andor pretended not to understand Chewbacca muttering about how his other copilot never let him choose what they listened to – and the flight to Mustafar passed surprisingly pleasantly.

It probably behooved K-2SO to pretend to know less than it did, but it got more pleasure out of annoying people than it did out of self-preservation, and it happily corrected Solo’s grammar throughout the entirety of their flight to the Rings of Kafrene. Solo would not tell the droid what his business was in Kafrene, but it was clearly something shady and illegal. Not that K-2SO cared about what was legal – it had aligned itself with the Rebellion, after all. That didn’t stop it from pointing out every time Solo made a minor infraction, and listing all the possible punishments Solo could incur, whether or not the laws even applied on Kafrene. When it really wanted to annoy Solo (which was often), it made rude comments in festán, just because it could.

Han Solo had never regretted winning a game of Sabacc so much.

 

 

It was not even a standard week later when the Millennium Falcon made its second appearance at Massassi Base. Han Solo, whose face rarely expressed anything happier than vague annoyance, looked even more grumpy than usual. He managed to find General Draven, and fairly begged the man to take the droid back. He was less than pleased to find out that Chewie was off on a mission, and would not be expected back for a few weeks. He was welcome to stay on base… Solo was gone before Draven could finish the invitation. “Chewie will know where to find me,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Several weeks later, Captain Andor returned to Massassi Base, plenty of intel in hand. At the private briefing, Draven noticed that Andor looked healthier than usual, one might almost (but only almost) say happy. There was a rosiness to his cheeks (although that might just be sunburn from Mustafar), a brightness to his eyes, the hint of a smile playing at his lips, and Draven could swear he had actually put on a bit of weight, enough that he didn’t look starving for the first time since he’d signed up at the age of twelve (claiming to be sixteen, but fooling nobody.) The only time the spark faltered was when Draven casually mentioned, “By the way, we’ve got your droid back. So you don’t have to work with a sentient co-pilot anymore.”

“I really don’t mind,” Andor insisted.

“You really don’t have a choice,” Draven replied.

Draven was present at the exchanging of the co-pilots. Andor said something to Chewbacca in what must have been his native language, pronouncing the Wookiee’s name with a certain lilt Draven hadn’t heard before. The Wookiee responded in his own language, which Draven didn’t understand, but Andor apparently did, as he nodded gravely, and gave what would have been the saddest smile on a normal person, but was frankly par for the course with Andor. The Wookiee walked slowly towards the shuttle that would reunite him with the smuggler, giving many a backward glance, and Andor very deliberately looked away.

“Cassian, aren’t you happy to see me?” K-2SO asked.

“Of course. I’m always happy to see you,” Andor replied, and he was a good enough spy that he would have fooled someone who didn’t know him well, but K-2SO knew him well.

 

 

“Tell me, Cassian, what was it like flying with an organic?”

Captain Andor was not sure how to reply. He didn’t want to the droid’s feelings. (Did droids have feelings? This one certainly had attitude.) But he also knew he couldn’t lie effectively to K-2. “It was actually not bad. We pretended not to understand each others’ languages, and we mostly just listened to music. I don’t think we had a single conversation of more than three sentences during the entire month. It was wonderful. How about you? How did you fare with the egotistical gambling smuggler?”

“I annoyed the crap out of him. It was amazing. But I’m glad to be back, Cassian. As amusing as it is to observe someone so predictably incompetent, it’s nice to fly with someone I don’t worry will get me blown up.”

“Thanks, Kay. I missed you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a conversation with a friend about how funny the combination of K-2SO and Han Solo would be, and whether Cassian would hate or love flying with Chewbacca. I would definitely watch a buddy-cop film about the former pair.


End file.
